Save Me
by JandJFan92
Summary: Preseries A/U. Dean is 22 and Sam is about to turn 18. John leaves for a hunt and the boys get a surprise visit from a shapeshifter in John's skin. Can Dean fix things again? Lots of angst to come and hurt boys. R&R. Strong language, Violence.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I was watching 'Skin' the other day and thought it would be awesome if they had been attacked by a shifter that looked like John. I would like to thank Exdemon1120 for helping me to beta the story. Please review!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine.

**Save Me**

Dean rolled over in his bed, as he started to wake up. He let out a soft groan of annoyance when he heard the drapes being pulled back. The result caused the sun to come shining in directly on his face.

"C'mon Dean, get your ass in gear." He heard his father's gruff voice say as he rubbed his eyes.

"What time is it?" Dean questioned still groggy, and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Ten in the morning, you've slept in long enough." John answered with the slightest hint of concern as he watched his oldest boy began to pull himself from bed. He could hear the water running in the bathroom; Sam was in the shower. The older hunter sighed. "Listen, I have to head out, Bobby needs back up. Can you hold down the fort, son?" John asked knowing already what Dean's answer would be.

Dean rolled his eyes, why his dad still asked him questions like that he couldn't figure out. "Dad, Sam and I are perfectly capable of living on our own, I'm twenty-two years old, and Sam's fixing to turn eighteen, I think we've got it covered." Dean responded the annoyance blatantly obvious in his voice.

"Watch your tone, Dean." John warned with a glare and tone that Dean knew too well. John walked over to the dresser preparing to get on his way. He picked up his duffel bag. "Stay in town until I get back. Understood?" John although the last part made is sound like a question it was more of an order. He trusted his oldest with Sam's life. He knew Dean would look out for his brother. Dean always did, but that didn't mean John wanted them outside the safety of this town.

Dean nodded. "Yes sir." He said obediently. He watched his dad leave without another word. After John exited the bathroom door opened. Dean looked over, and saw Sam come out of the shower. The young man was dressed in fresh clean clothes; his usual jeans and a button up shirt.

"Where's Dad?" Sam questioned as he walked over to his brother. Sam waited expectantly for him to answer.

"He left to go on a hunt, Bobby needed him." Dean stated as he got up, stretched, and then walked over to the coffee pot. He began making a fresh pot of coffee.

Sam frowned slightly, as he sat down on one of the matching beds. Their Dad left again for a hunt. And Sam's birthday was just in a few days. It looked like John wouldn't be around. It wasn't the first time John hadn't been there for a birthday or holiday, but it never seemed to get easier.

Dean looked over, seeing his brother's distress. "Sam?" Dean questioned worriedly.

Sam looked up at his brother. "I'm fine Dean." Sam answered Dean's unspoken question.

Dean didn't believe Sam for a second, but he let it go. He absently watched the coffee being made and dripping into the coffee pot. "Want some?" Dean questioned when it was finally done.

"Sure." Sam answered as he watched his brother take the coffee pot and pouring its contents into two coffee mugs. Dean handed one to Sam, and then placed the tray of sugar and cream packets in the middle of the table. Dean liked his coffee black, but knew Sam liked to sweeten his up.

Dean sipped his coffee and looked to his brother. "Wanna go shoot some hoops?" Dean questioned, arching his eyebrow with a grin. Sam was taller than him now and it was more of a challenge for Dean to beat his younger brother at basketball.

"Nah, not really in the mood." Sam answered looking over to his brother. "So, how long is Dad supposed to be gone?" Sam questioned casually as he looked at his brother.

"A week, maybe two." Dean answered, he knew why Sam was asking. And to be honest it bothered him to see his brother upset. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, Dad always forgets my birthday, even when he's here. Listen, why don't we go to a poetry reading, or something?" Dean teased, watching as the small smile that couldn't help but form on Sam's lips.

"How about we go out to eat lunch, I'm hungry. Then if you want we can go bar hopping?" Sam proposed, knowing his brother wouldn't reject his offer. Dean loved bar hopping and diner food. He loved a good greasy burger and making other guys look like idiots in front of girls. Dean's favorite way was by hustling pool or good game of poker. Plus it gave them a little extra spending money.

"Thought you'd never ask," Dean smirked. "Give me a minute to go get dressed, and then we can go," Dean added. Then he set his coffee down on the table and grabbed a fresh pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a random plaid button-up. He gave the clothes a quick sniff to make sure they were clean enough for public, and then he was in the bathroom changing.

While Sam waited for his brother to get ready; he heard a knock on the door. He furrowed his brow, wondering who it could be. No one knew they were here except themselves and John. He walked up to the door and looked through the peep hole. He seemed a bit confused as he backed up and opened it.

"Dad?!" He questioned, stunned that their father was back at the motel. "What are you doing here? I thought you just left to go on a hunt?" Sam rambled out the questions as John walked in past him.

"Plans changed; Bobby got Caleb's help instead." John answered casually as he walked over, sitting down in a chair at the small table in the room. Something screamed in Sam's head that something was very wrong, but he dismissed it. He looked over, seeing Dean come out of the bathroom, dressed.

"Dad?" Dean echoed Sam's question, arching an eyebrow questioningly. John looked over to Dean.

"Caleb went to go help Bobby, I figured I'd come back, spend some down time with my boys." John answered. Dean furrowed his brow, something seemed off. That wasn't like Dad. John lived and breathed hunting. He'd never take down time voluntarily. But before Dean could question his father further about it, everything went black. John had quickly nailed him across the jaw with the butt of his pistol. The young man fell to the floor.

Sam looked over to his unconscious brother. Everything had happened so fast, and now John had the pistol aimed at Sam. All he could do was stand there frozen in terror.

"Why don't you go sit on that chair over there?" John instructed with a smirk on his face. He kept the gun trained on the young man as he obeyed. Once Sam was sitting in the chair, John set the pistol the counter top. He knew he wouldn't need it to overcome the teenager before him. While Sam was taller than John, Sam was still just a boy and was not as well trained or as strong as John.

Sam watched John grab hold of Dean and drag him to the opposite side of the room. "What are you?" The young man asked. John grabbed some rope and tied Dean's wrists behind his back.

John looked up at his other son a dreadful grin on his face, "It's all me Sammy. I've just been waiting for the right moment, so I could get you alone. I wanted a chance to tell you what I really think about you without your stubborn pain in the ass brother getting in my way." John answered as he bound Dean's ankles. He threw Dean's legs down to the floor when he was done.

Sam took the opportunity, and got up. He charged at his father; pinning John against the wall. There was a loud thud as the two slammed into the wall. John looked irate with Sam.

"You're going to pay for that." John snarled as he shoved Sam to the ground. Without a moment of hesitation he kicked Sam in the gut. The young man felt the air knocked from his lungs from the blow. Then John grabbed Sam's shirt and hoisted him up, with almost no effort. John slammed the boy into the wall. Unrelenting, John gripped Sam by his hair. Then John slammed the teen into the wall over and over until finally everything went black, and Sam went limp.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry for such a long delay, life has been really hectic, but I'm back working on this story, so I'll probably have updates every week to two weeks!

Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Supernatural, or John, Dean, or Sam. I wish I did though =) Please review! They motivate me to write and make this story possible!

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A low groan left Dean's mouth as he felt a numbing sensation along his jaw where John had nailed him with the pistol. The more he started to come to, the more his thoughts drifted to what was going on. He started to recall what had happened and when he had tried to move, he couldn't, quickly registering that he was bound, both wrists and ankles. He looked up when he heard movement and… Humming? Yeah he heard a humming noise emanating from his 'father'. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched John sitting boredly in the armchair, sharpening one of his hunting knives. Shifting his eyes to the bed, he saw his little brother stripped of his shirt, tied to the bed, each limb to a corner. He instinctively went to move towards Sam but felt himself fall over onto his side, his head landing against the hard floor causing him to utter a profanity.

"Shit!" He hissed under his breath as he tried to move his way back to sitting up. He watched as John slid the knife, shaving a bit of his arm hair to see if the blade was sharp enough. He smiled in satisfaction, though it sent a chill up Dean's spine. It was no ordinary smile. He knew something was about to ensue involving himself or his brother with that knife, and he'd be damned if it was his brother.

John shut the knife sharpening kit, setting it down on the coffee table as he curled his fingers around the hilt of the knife, slowly stalking up to Dean with such lithe, that of a predator. Dean noticed quickly, another indicator of an imposter. John was anything but lithe. Dean narrowed his eyes as John finally stood just a few feet away from him, kicking him in the gut, causing a grunt to escape Dean's lips. He then squatted down to Dean's level and sat him upright.

"Son, didn't I tell you to watch out for Sam?" He growled out, clearly playing the part of an angry John.

"Don't call me son. I'm not your son." Dean hissed angrily, despising the twisted son of a bitch behind this all.

"Oh come Dean, you are my son and so is Sammy over there. Sweet little Sammy…" He crooned as he smirked devilishly to Dean before looking over to Sam. "I like playing games, and seeing as you're just too much fun to toy with I think Sam will be my first toy. I may not know you, but I have John's memories and boy, I can have a whole lot of fun with the two of you!" He said as a deep chuckle arose from his throat as he laughed freely.

"You touch Sam and it'll be the last mistake you ever make you son of a bitch!" Dean warned him, his voice venomous, and the angry glare in his eyes. He wanted to break free and rescue Sam, to get to him before this imposter had the chance, but seeing as how he had no way of getting out, he knew he had no way to follow through on his words, that they were just meaningless for now.

"Dean, Dean, Dean… You are really in no place to tell me what to do, boy! And this tone! Certainly I raised you better then that! I'm just going to have to punish you, to teach you who's running this show, aren't I?" He questioned him rhetorically as he got up and walked up to the bed that Sam was tied to. He walked around and sat down on the edge of the bed, knife in hand and slowly drug the knife along Sam's forearm drawing blood. He grinned as he looked to Sam who awoke startled. His grin grew even wider when he heard Sam hiss in pain and Dean yelling out for him to stop.

Sam looked to John, confused, but then also remembering what had happened he assumed hours before. He glanced over to see Dean tied up, halfway across the room. He looked back to John, fighting against the ropes, though it was futile.

"What are you?" Sam questioned as he lay back against the bed, giving in for now.

"It's me, son, Dad." He said in all seriousness as he drug the knife an inch below Sam's elbow harsher, drawing more blood then the cut before.

"Sam!" Dean yelled out as he struggled against the ropes as pointless as it was. His eyes wandered around the room, searching for something, anything really to get them out of this mess, but he found nothing. John turned to look to Dean, laughing.

"Dean, son, you might as well just sit back and enjoy the show, neither of you are going anywhere." He told him with the utmost confidence. He received glares from both the Winchester boys then.

"You're not Dad!" Sam shouted and grunted in pain when John turned and swiped the knife along Sam's bicep.

"No, maybe not, but I have all of his memories up here, all of his feelings, and let me tell you Sam, John is very disappointed in you. He knows." John whispered to him, a sly smirk on his lips. Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment as he held John's gaze before looking away.

"Sam? Sam, what's he saying?" Dean called out in a panic, not wanting the monster to damage his brother in any way, shape, or form.

Sam didn't answer him though. Instead he looked away from the shape shifter, believing what he had said. Sam knew John wouldn't approve of him going to Stanford. He would see it as betraying himself and Dean, leaving them behind for his own selfish wants and needs. He hadn't told his brother yet though. He hadn't known how. He couldn't just blurt it out, Dean deserved better than that. He deserved a better brother who wouldn't leave him behind for his own selfish reasons. He started to withdraw himself farther into his mind where it was safe as John continued to cut on his body. He was only vaguely aware of Dean's pleading and the gasps and grunts that escaped his lips every time he felt the knife against his flesh.

"You know Sam, Dean was always John's favorite. Dean did everything he was told. He never fought back. You though, you always butted heads with him. You always had to know every little detail. Always was stickler for specifics. But you know why he was always angry with you Sammy boy?" He questioned him as he cut along Sam's shoulder.

"It's Sam." He managed to grunt as he looked to John, coming out of the recesses of his mind for a moment. He despised this shapeshifter the most because of the meat suit that he had stolen.

John managed an amused laugh. "He blamed you. He blamed you for Mary's death; resented you. But could you blame him? Before you, he had a wonderful life! A wife and a kid, a little boy whom he adored. And then you came along and screwed it all up, Sam." He crooned, not caring that he spoke loud enough for Dean to hear.

"He's lying Sam!" Dean yelled out as he flailed against the ropes, trying his damndest to get out of this predicament to save his brother, who he knew would believe the damn monster.

But Sam didn't say anything. Instead he seemed to sink back into his bed, trying to hide away in his mind from John. He was helpless but to be subject to the shapeshifter's torment, both physical and verbal. He felt so vulnerable. He cried out in pain when John plunged the knife into side whimpering when he twisted it slightly.

"Sam! You son of a bitch, let him go!" Dean yelled out to John as he continued to struggle. He moved and fell on to his side, seeing his own hunting knife beneath his bed. He figured it must have fallen while he was asleep. He inched closer to it but froze when he felt John place his foot on his side, stopping him.

"No so fast Dean, you won't ruin my fun, but don't worry, you'll be up soon, boy." He told him matter of factly and punched Dean hard in the chin, knocking him out and leaving him there. He picked up the other knife and walked back over to Sam, resuming his position beside him. He hummed as he cut along Sam, grinning widely as he only got whimpers from the youngest Winchester as he continued with the torture.

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AN: Please remember to review, tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: So yeah… It's been way more than two weeks, yikes! Anyways hope the long wait was worth it!

Warnings: Dean has quite the mouth on him this chapter and also has some very disturbing thoughts...

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"Wake up!"

Dean groaned as he felt a sharp stinging sensation on his cheek, and then John's gruff voice ringing in his ears. He was a bit disoriented, trying to recall what has happened, what was going on. His first thoughts were on his little brother and if Sammy was okay. Slowly opening his eyes and staring back into those of John Winchester's everything started to come back like a rush and Dean's head hurt recounting it all.

"Good, you're awake. You know, I always did tell you not to sleep in. Have you been a bad boy while I've been gone, Dean? Throwing everything I told you out the window?" John questions him coyly, though they both know he isn't the real the John, that he's just some shifter taking pleasure in fucking with the boy's heads.

But then it occurred to Dean. He wasn't on the hard, stiff, floor. No, he was on the lumpy motel bed and that had him panicking. Sam! He felt his heart racing in his chest, hammering so hard that his chest ached and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tried to figure out where the hell the shifter had put his little brother.

"Where the fuck is my little brother, you son of a bitch?" Dean hisses as he struggles, futilely against the ropes, knowing the binding is too tight. He strains against them, pulling at them and thrashing around, looking around the room, trying to find his brother and suddenly when he does see him, his heart shatters.

Seeing Sammy in the corner, bound and gagged, a bloody mess, literally. He doesn't seem coherent, and Dean is almost certain he's shaking and probably whimpering, though if he is, the sounds are too soft to be heard. His gut wrenches with guilt, he should have known immediately it wasn't Dad, he should have been able to protect them both, but he hadn't, he had been taken off guard and now it was Sam that had to suffer. Dean could care less what the shape shifter did to him, he just knew that as soon as he got out of this mess, he had one more creature he was going to fuck up, and he was going to take his time, nice and slow…

"Sammy says hi by the way." John says condescendingly as he stared down at Dean, who's now staring back up at him with a glare in his eyes and he's way beyond pissed. Dean's making a promise to himself, promising he's going to get them out of this somehow, that he's going to kill this shifter and get himself and Sam someplace safe so they can recover—

"Fuck!" Dean growls out as John drags the knife along his abs, feeling the hot, stinging of his flesh ripping apart and his blood surfacing, oozing from the flesh wound, watching as it pools down to his navel, wondering if their situation could really get any fuckin' worse.

"You know, I would do more to you, Champ, but you know, whatever I do to you, it's obvious you do it so much worse in your head. But you know what the best part is?" He questions Dean, and waiting a beat before continuing on, enjoying his games. "Little Sammy here won't be able to look at Daddy when he comes home to find this mess."

Dean knows he's right. Sam isn't in a good state of mind and he knows if the real John were to walk right through that door Sam would shy away from his touch and cower in fear. Who could blame him? He's only been torturing his little brother for how long, and who knows what kind of stuff happened while he was out. A shiver runs up Dean's spine just thinking about it and he hopes to God himself what he's thinking didn't happen to his little brother, especially from some monster that looks like their Dad.

It's all kinds of wrong, but more importantly if it did happen it only gave Dean that much more reason to get him and Sam out of here and to a place where they could be safe. He grunts as he feels another drag of the blade of the knife along his flesh, but he isn't paying attention to the shape shifter's monologue. He's trying to figure out how long it would take for John's check up call on them and how long it would take him to get back. He realizes by the time all is said and done, he and Sam are screwed and probably dead or bleeding to death. It looks grim for himself and Sam, but Dean Winchester is not the type to just roll over and die, especially when Sammy's life is on the line.

But Dean looks over to the clock and a smirk graces his lips as he sees what time it is. A lot of time has passed since John had left this morning to now. The shifter cocks his head to the side, looking to Dean curiously. "What'cha smirkin' about boy?" He bellows in his bass tone of voice.

"It's a surprise." Dean says before chuckling humorlessly after he let the words roll right off of his tongue, enjoying the picture as he watches the shifter internally thing about what's going on, about his whole plan. It's unfamiliar to Dean because John, the real John, is so much better at hiding his emotions and his plan that seeing it as clear as day on his face is so unreal to him. He sees the anger return to the shifter's face, and that part is all too familiar on John's face. He braces himself though as he watches him swing his arm out and then… Everything went black.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Dean."

He could barely hear the words of his father's low base voice as he struggled to wake.

"C'mon son, you need to get up."

Hearing a bit more urgency in his father's voice, Dean groans in protest as he manages to crack one eye open, and then another.

"Ungh…" He grunts as he tries to focus, his vision blurry at first, but then he remembers the situation he was in and he pulls at his arm, surprised when his arm flings over his chest, though a sharp spark of pain igniting through it. "Fuck!" He growls as he gingerly moves his other hand to hold his arm still. He winces slightly when his hand meets the stickiness of his blood, but looking up he sees John and instinctively backs up on the bed away from him.

"Dean, it's me, son."

"S-Sam… Where's Sam." He says looking around the room, his thoughts shifting to his brother, needing to get to him but then looking back to John. He needs to know it's really John. He looks over John's shoulder and he sees the shifter on the ground, dead in a messy pile. He frowns; he really wanted to tear that son of a bitch apart. It's like John knows what he's thinking as he rests a hand on Dean's good shoulder.

"It wouldn't have done anyone any good son." He says calmly before adding on, "'Sides, Sammy needs you Dean. He won't leave that corner, won't let me get near enough to cut him free." John says before nodding towards Sam's direction. "Fuck." Dean hisses as he propels himself up on his knees, the quick movement making him wobble, dizzy.

Regaining composure he gets up, seeing John take out his small silver boot knife and handing it to him, Dean holding it low and out of site as he slowly approaches Sam. He watches as his little brother cowers back into the corner, his chest aching once more as he nears close enough to hear the muffled whimpers emanating from his brother's throat. His throat was thick with guilt as he nears closer reaching in slowly for the ropes.

"I'm sorry Sammy… I'm so fuckin' sorry man." He says softly, swallowing thickly as he cuts the ropes off, setting the knife on the ground and sliding it away, seeing his brother ease just a little at the gesture. He can't help but notice Sam is shaking as he reaches in, noticing Sam cowering back. "I know Sammy but lemme get this gag off ya, okay?" He says softly as he leans in further to untie the gag, feeling his brother fighting and thrashing against him. He hisses in pain, finally managing to get the gag off.

"Fuck little brother… Sammy?" He questions as he places a strong hand on Sam's shoulder, pulling his brother close and into his chest, feeling him thrash around and fighting him still. "Sammy it's me…" He grunts out, not able to help it because of the pain that Sam is inducing upon him. He starts rubbing small circles on Sam's bare back, a soothing gesture he's done since they were kids and he can feel Sam relaxing under his touch, not fighting him anymore.

"I gotcha Sammy… Son of a bitch is dead, not touchin' ya ever again." He says softly, grimacing as he pulls one hand up, seeing it covered in blood. He resumes the gesture, just trying to keep Sam calm and he looks to his father over his own shoulder, craning his neck.

"Get Sammy dressed; we need to get some place safe." John commands to his son, as if nothing had happened, as if this was an ordinary day. Dean scowls at his father, shaking his head. "Sammy's beat to hell and who knows what that fucker did to him… We need a hospital…" He breathes out, and as much as Dean hates to admit it, he knows it's where they need to be. Sam needs to be checked out, and Dean knew he could use some patching up as well.

He watches as John heaves a heavy sigh, no doubt knowing that Dean is right. "Fine," He grunts before reaching over and grabbing their duffle bags together. "Get him ready, I throw the shit in the car and have it pulled around." He mutters before grabbing their things together and heading out the door.

"C'mon Sammy, I gotcha… Gonna get'cha cleaned up a bit and dressed… This way…" Dean says soothingly as he tries to heave Sam up and towards the bathroom. His knees buckle though and they both fall back down, both hissing in pain. "Sammy, I need your help." He says softly as he tries again, though this time he can feel Sam helping him because there's less weight on him, and together, Dean manages to get them both into the bathroom.

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AN: Yikes, poor Sammy! And poor Dean, not getting the chance to rip apart that shifter.


End file.
